


Elements

by DoctorBilly



Series: The Irregulars [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Billyverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBilly/pseuds/DoctorBilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eighteen months or so after Billy lost his sight, Britain has a new King, Mycroft holds the reins of power again and everyone is getting on with their lives. The Irregulars are shuffling and reforming. Sherlock is in a difficult place, Billy is blind and Greg is retired from the Yard (finally) and is looking after him.</p>
<p>I make no excuses for Luce and Arkady figuring large in this. I love my OCs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plan B

Luce wakes with a full-body jolt. " _Something's out there…_ ". He doesn't move, uses his senses to gauge the threat. There is a definite shadow in the doorway, dark against the outside darkness, bulky. Bigger than a dog. Smaller than a bear. Luce breathes deeply, tightens his grip on the gun under his pillow.

"I _will_ shoot…"

"Please do not."

The voice is a shockingly familiar growl. Luce gives a little gasp, a little catch of his breath, sits up, shivering.

"Close the door before I freeze…"

The closing door blocks out the shadow. Luce flips on a low-wattage lamp, not much brighter than a nightlight. The shadow resolves itself into a familiar form, who divests himself of a fur coat and sits on the edge of Luce's bunk. Luce shuffles over, making space.

"Take your boots off."

"All right. Take that gun out from under your pillow. So dangerous…"

"You're calling _me_ on dangerous?"

Arkady grins, and lies down, crowding Luce against the far edge of the bunk. He keeps all his clothes on, and is not surprised that Luce is also fully clothed, sans boots, under the blankets.

"You're going to shove me out…"

The bunk is pulled away from the wall of the caravan, so that its occupant will not lie against the cold outside wall. The caravan is tiny, designed for a single occupant on weather-station duty, towable from station to station by snowmobile in winter, or more usually, four by four pickup truck. Luce is at the end of his rotation. In the morning, he will check the last station on the loop and make his way back to the university campus, just outside Reykjavik.

Arkady grins again, and wraps his arms around Luce's waist, hauling him back from the edge. Luce responds by wrapping his own longer arms and legs around Arkady.

"Ahhh. I have missed those dancer's thighs…"

"Shut up. What are you doing here?"

"I missed you."

Luce isn't convinced, but lets it go. He shuffles a bit to get comfortable, sighs as Arkady pulls his coat over both of them as an extra blanket.

"When can you finish here?"

"I go back to Reykjavik tomorrow. I'll hand off to Arnaldur, he's on the next tour. Why?"

"Come back to London."

"I was planning to stay in Iceland until the end of the summer, test the data loggers…"

"Please, Luka. Come back."

"What's happened?"

"I went to a tea party. It disturbed me."

"A tea party?"

"Da. It was Billi's birthday. Hero wanted to have a party for him. There was cake. It was very nice."

"Who else was there?"

"Gregor, of course. And Jack Logan, with the boys. Mycroft was not able to attend."

"Who else?"

"It was a small gathering. Billi finds it hard to cope with crowds. Theodore Dimmock was there, and Frankie. That is all. Hero asked for you…"

"She's a sweetheart. I wouldn't have been comfortable. Frankie and Theo don't trust me around Bill now."

Arkady makes a rude noise.

"Billi would be safer with you than any of them."

Luce smiles, grimly. At least someone trusts him.

"Frankie thinks we should let Liam Callaghan poke around in Bill's head. He thinks I've jeopardised the chance of sensory augmentation for Bill's problem…"

"Callaghan's relationship with Billi was acrimonious. Violent. I do not understand why Frankie does not see this as a potential difficulty. And anyway, he is still in custody."

"Frankie had an affair with Callaghan. He sees him through rose-coloured glasses. He thinks I'm the bad man. I can live with it."

"You should not have to, Luka. You were doing your duty, breaking a conspiracy, protecting your King."

"Frankie doesn't see that. He doesn't know about official secrets and stuff. It doesn't matter." He smiles, sadly. "I'm surprised at Theo though. I suppose he's just supporting his boyfriend. And he wasn't really in the loop at the time."

"I will have a discussion with Theo about this. I think things must change, be different when you come back."

Luce strokes Arkady's shoulders and neck, surprised at the tension in the muscles and tendons.

"Something's got you rattled…"

"No one said happy birthday to me."

Luce blinks. Takes a moment to see the significance of this statement.

" _Bill_ forgot?"

"Da."

"But he wouldn't forget. Not _your_ birthday. How could he?"

"He did. Something is wrong, Luka."

"Have you spoken to Greg?"

"He does not see it. It needs someone who has not seen Billi for a while. You must visit him, Luka. Please."

"All right. I'll come back with you."

Luce feels Arkady relax against him. He kisses the top of the blond head.

"I didn't forget your birthday…"

"I know."

 

*********

 

In the morning, Luce helps Arkady manhandle his hired motorcycle into the back of the four by four truck, checks the last weather station is recording correctly, then drives the twenty miles back to the university. Arkady sits quietly in the passenger seat, humming absently along with the radio.

"Are you booked into a hotel?"

"Da. It is very basic. I could stay with you until you can leave…"

Luce chuckles

"I'm in the halls of residence. Even more basic, I expect. I should be able to leave tomorrow, once I've handed over to Arnaldur. How about I squeeze into your hotel room tonight?"

"Da. A good plan. I really did miss you."

Luce laughs.

"I missed you too, you know."

Luce points Arkady towards the refectory and hurries to the lab where his Icelandic colleague is waiting. They compare notes and check that the weather station data loggers are working with the radio telemetry systems correctly. Luce hands over the notes he has taken and airdrops data from his iPad to Arnaldur's. He explains that he has been recalled to London. Arnaldur shrugs philosophically. Researchers come and go. There will be another along soon. The two men shake hands and part company cheerfully.

Luce strolls to the refectory. Arkady is sitting at a window table, staring vacantly out. Luce sees him jump as his phone vibrates on the table in front of him. Luce frowns. Arkady is not at all himself. He suspects that he is bothered by more than just Billy forgetting his birthday. He goes to the counter and buys coffee for himself, tea for Arkady, and on a whim, bread and a pack of _svið_. At the checkout he picks up sachets of sugar and two little plastic pots of jam, one pinkish red, one darker. He carries his tray to where Arkady is sitting.

"Tea. I didn't put milk in it."

"Spazeba." Arkady smiles as he notices the jam. "Is this for me?"

"Yes. I don't know what flavours they are. The pink one might be rhubarb. That seems to be popular…"

"It does not matter. Jam is jam."

Arkady stirs teaspoonsful of jam into his tea, smiling as Luce shudders.

"I've seen you do that before. Is it a Russian thing, or an Arkady thing?"

"A Russian thing. But the tea should be stronger."

Luce pushes the svið across the table toward Arkady, who looks at it balefully.

"What is this?"

"Food. Svið. Sheep's head. It's an Icelandic thing. Takeaway."

"I am not hungry."

"Coward." Luce giggles. "It's just lamb. Or mutton, maybe."

"I prefer that my food does not look at me…"

Luce cuts slivers of meat from the sheep's head and piles them onto a plate, wrapping the bones in a paper napkin for disposal.

"There. It's just meat now. Eat."

Arkady takes some of the meat and makes a sandwich.

"It is acceptable. Thank you."

"It's better than the salt fish, anyway." 

Arkady taps the screen of his phone, closing a web page.

"I have booked plane tickets for us. For tomorrow. We must leave the hotel by nine thirty in the morning."

"Okay. Let's finish here and you can give me a hand to pick up my stuff from the halls. We should probably get an early night…"

Arkady smiles.

"I need to show you something."

 

*********

 

" _In_ _recognition of your brave service to the crown, your disregard for your own safety and the possibility of your own death, the injuries you suffered in the exercise of your duty and your unquestioning loyalty to your sovereign, I confer on you the title of Knight of the Order of the King's Fellowship._ "

King Henry IX lowers the sword to Billy H Wiggins's right, then left shoulder, waits while an aide positions the purple sash and belt correctly, then steps forward to pin the insignia of the new order of chivalry on Billy's chest. The formalities over, he grasps Billy's hands and helps him to his feet, hugs him and whispers something Luce can't make out.

Luce pauses the video.

"What did he say? Could you hear?"

"No. I was too far back. It made Billi laugh though. I wish you could have been there."

Luce shrugs and starts the video again. Two children, a red haired boy of around twelve and a blonde girl, seven, but tall for her age, step up beside Billy and walk in close step with him, one at each arm, not touching, ensuring that he does not veer off track as he makes his way back to his seat.

"Hero looks so pretty in that mauve dress. Who's the boy?"

"It is the prince. Rufus."

"Crikey."

"Da. Hero has friends in high places. Look now, Luka. Watch Billi's face."

Luce concentrates as Billy approaches his seat, sees the very slight stagger and grimace of pain, notices Greg Lestrade rising to grasp him and guide him down onto the gilt chair. It is over very quickly. The children do not notice. Lestrade bends his head to Billy and says something. Billy shakes his head slightly and smiles. The video clip ends.

"You see? I noticed this little stagger again at the birthday party…"

Luce frowns.

"It's been going on for a while, then."

"Da." Arkady switches his phone off and puts it in his pocket. "Do not leave it too long to see him. Please."

"I said I'd go as soon as we get back to London. I will."

 

*********

 

Luce closes his eyes as the plane lifts from the runway. He likes flying, never gets airsickness or popped ears, but he doesn't enjoy take-off. He waits impatiently for the plane to level off, hopes there won't be too much turbulence. Arkady is humming tunelessly in the seat next to him, getting on his nerves.

"Can you stop that?"

Arkady blinks at the sharp edge to Luce's voice.

"Have I upset you, Luka?"

"No. Not really." Luce tries to lighten his own mood. "I was so pleased to see you. I thought…" He sighs. "I read too much into it."

"I do not understand."

"Why did you come all the way to Iceland? Why didn't you just phone? You could have emailed the video."

"Would you have come back if I had not come?"

"I don't know. I probably would have phoned Bill…"

"He would say there is not a problem. You have to see him, face to face."

"I expect you're right. Will you come with me?"

"No. I have annoyed Grisha…"

"I'm Plan B, then. Okay. You can drop my stuff off for me, and I'll go straight from the airport." 


	2. Big enough for two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luce visits Billy.

Billy H Wiggins mutes his e-reader and presses a key on a small pad he wears on his left wrist. The key activates the intercom for the front door of the St John's Wood flat he shares with Greg Lestrade and their daughter Hero. He speaks into a tiny microphone on his wrist pad.

"Hello"

"Hello Bill. Can I come in?"

"Lucien! Yeah, just push the door when you hear the lock click."

Luce pushes the door and enters the flat. He knows his way around, he has been here before. Billy is sitting in the large, airy living room. The windows and the french doors leading to the fire-escape balcony are all open, allowing some circulation of air through the stiflingly hot flat.

"This heat was a bit of a shock. Its been thirteen degrees at the warmest where I've been." He laughs. "You should talk Greg into getting air conditioning."

Billy laughs.

"He would, but having workmen in would be difficult. Too many things for me to bump into or trip over. It's only uncomfortable for a few weeks in the summer. anyway. We can live with that." He puts his laptop carefully on the low table beside his chair and stands up. "Haven't seen you for ages, Lucien. Come here and say hello properly."

Luce blinks at Billy's phrasing, realises there isn't a non-clumsy replacement phrase for ' _haven't seen you_ …'. He crosses the room and hugs Billy, getting a hug of his own in return.

"How are you, Bill? Oh, and belated happy birthday."

"Thanks. I'm all right. I thought you were in Iceland?"

"Yeah. Flew back this morning. You've been busy while I've been away." Luce smiles "I saw the video of your investiture…"

Billy smiles

"I didn't know there was video. Can't believe I'm a knight. Hero thinks I ought to have a sword and a horse. She was great, wasn't she?"

"She looked so grown up. What did the king whisper to you?"

"He told me he wanted to put more examples of my bravery in the speech but he had a time limit." Billy laughs. "I told him I'd have to take his word for it that I'd done anything brave at all. I don't remember any of it."

Luce chuckles.

"Wish I could have made it back, but there was a volcano…"

"I heard about that. Were you affected at the university?"

"There was a lot of ash. I didn't go out much for a couple of weeks. Got my head down in the lab. Arnaldur was very impressed with my diligence…"

"Who's Arnaldur?"

"Researcher. Studying weather trends…"

"Oh. Not a new boyfriend then?"

"No. I'm still trying to work something out with Arkady."

Billy scowls. Luce barks out a laugh.

"You look like you've bitten into a lemon. Are you jealous?"

"I'm not. I'm just not sure I approve of you and him…"

Luce smiles, knowing Billy can't see him.

"I don't think we need your approval, Bill. Or do I have to call you sir again?"

"Don't be daft, Lucien. Did Arkady send you to see me?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"He pissed me off at my birthday party. Hero and Greg had gone to a lot of trouble to make it nice and all he could do was nag me about my headaches…"

"Headaches? You getting a lot of those?"

"Greg had to throw Arkady out…"

"Bill…"

Billy sighs and sits down in his chair, waving his arm vaguely in the direction of the sofa. Luce takes this as an invitation, and sits, waiting for Billy to speak.

"I deliberately didn't wish him happy birthday. I was a bit childish. Bit sulky." He smiles tightly. "I didn't want to think about the headaches. He wouldn't leave it alone."

"He cares about you, Bill."

"I know. He's got sharp eyes. He spotted it at the investiture" He pauses, thoughtful. "He must have taken the video you saw…"

"Yes. You staggered as you got back to your seat. And it looked as if you had a pain…"

"Yeah. Headache. And sparkles in my left eye."

"Migraine?"

"I had a fall. The day before the investiture. Slipped and banged my head in the bathroom. Don't tell Greg."

"That was months ago, Bill. How frequent are these headaches?"

"Not that frequent, but of course I had one at the party and Arkady noticed. I'm scared of the sparkles, Lucien. I think I might have done some more damage."

"Have you seen a doctor?"

"Yeah. I've got to have another scan. I don't know how to tell Greg."

 

*********

 

"Sir?"

Luce turns to the concierge, who raises an eyebrow and gestures with a toss of his head to the the corner of the foyer.

"Oh, for heaven's sake…"

"He insisted on waiting, sir. I told him you were away…he said he knew you were on your way back. I know he visits you sometimes sir, but I didnt  have permission to let him into your flat. I found him a chair. He's been here for hours, sir. He's asleep."

Luce smiles.

"It's all right. I'll wake him up. Thanks."

He walks over to the corner and puts a hand gently on Arkady's shoulder.

"Hey."

Arkady's eyes flutter open, fastening on Luce's face. His shoulders heave in a sigh and he flushes, looking away. Luce frowns. Was that _fear_ on Arkady's face?

"Let's get you upstairs."

 

*********

 

"You did not give me a key. Or answer your phone. Was it your intention that I should give your luggage to the concierge to take care of? That I should leave?"

"Sorry about the phone. I didn't realise the battery had run down." Luce hands Arkady a mug of strong tea. "I was a bit annoyed, I suppose…"

Arkady sips his tea. There is no jam this time.

"I thought if I left I might not be welcomed back."

"I was in Iceland for four months. I really missed you, but you only came out when you were worried about Bill…"

"No. Not only…" Arkady shakes his head, fear flickering in his eyes again. "I was working for most of the time you were there. I phoned, texted, emailed…"

"I know you didn't forget me. But you could have nagged me about Bill. I would have listened eventually."

"I know. But it would have annoyed you. I did not want that. And I had a need to be with someone. I needed _you_ , Luka."

"You hurt my feelings, you know. When you said no one wished you happy birthday." Luce laughs harshly. "I'd sent you an e-card. I thought you thought of me as nobody…"

"I am sorry. I meant only that Billi had not remembered."

"He did remember. He told me he didn't say happy birthday on purpose. You upset him, nagging him about the headaches."

"I know. Grisha asked me to leave. I was not polite in making my goodbyes."

They sit in silence for a while. Arkady finishes his tea, but does not put the mug down. Luce notices his knuckles, white from gripping hard.

"Ask."

"What?"

"Ask me how Bill is."

Arkady sighs and puts down the mug. Takes a deep breath.

"How is he?"

"He's scared. But he has spoken to his doctors and he's going for another scan. Did you know he'd fallen and banged his head?"

"No. That is significant, perhaps."

"Maybe. He didn't tell Greg he'd fallen. That's why he got upset with you. He was frightened he'd find out."

"He knows now?"

"Yes. And he's not happy, as you might gather. I left them to it."

Arkady reaches across the little bistro-style table, takes Luce's hand.

"Thank you."

Luce smiles, turns his hand to twine his fingers into Arkady's.

"I know you still love him."

Arkady closes his eyes, grips Luce's hand hard.

"Some days I think no. Others…"

Luce places his other hand over Arkady's, strokes the back with his thumb.

"I should feel insulted…"

Arkady flushes.

"I am sorry. He was my heart."

"You walked away from him. "

"Da. You know why." He closes his eyes. "Before I met Billi, Mycroft asked me if I believed in soul mates. I laughed at him. I told him no, there was no such thing." Arkady laughs, harshly. "I was wrong, it seems. There are soul mates, and Grisha is Billi's."

Luce reclaims his hands, leans back on two legs of his spindly chair.

"Look, Arkady, I know I'm not the love of your life…"

Arkady tenses, visibly.

"I will try to forget him."

"Don't be stupid. I'm not asking you to forget him. Just… look, I care about him too. I thought I loved him once."

Arkady does not reply. Luce sets his chair back on four legs, pushes it back so he can get up. He washes their mugs, stacking them on the tiny countertop. He looks at Arkady, sees the tension in his spine, the tightness of the muscles in his shoulders and neck.

"What are you scared of?"

Arkady jumps.

"I am afraid of nothing."

"Liar."

Arkady slumps, diminishes.

"I do not want to be always alone. I do not want to lose you, Luka."

Luce takes the three steps across the kitchenette space, puts his hands on Arkady's shoulders.

"I don't want just to be someone waiting around for you. Just someone you can have sex with when you need it." He sighs. "Don't misunderstand me, Arkady. The sex is great…"

"You want more."

"Yes. I need some sort of commitment, Arkady. I've never had a _proper_ boyfriend. I suppose I want that."

"You want us to live together?"

Luce closes his eyes, imagines two adults tripping over each other in his tiny studio flat. There is only room for a single armchair and his desk. Most of the space is taken up by the bed, behind a pierced-work screen. He laughs, sadly.

"That's obviously not going to work here, and you haven't even _told_ me where you live…"

"I do not have anywhere of my own. I lived on the SeaGlass when I first came to London with Billi. Then in Toulouse.  Then the flat in St John's Wood. That has been knocked through into Grisha's flat now. I stayed at the shelter in Camden for a while, but it was not a _home_. There is a hostel in Vauxhall where I stay sometimes…"

"I thought I just didn't mean enough to you for you to take me home with you. I didn't realise…"

Arkady huffs out an attempt at a laugh. It doesn't quite succeed.

"I tried to be mysterious…"

"Idiot. Are you planning to stay in London?"

"Da. If you are also staying."

"I've got a permanent contract now. As a lab technician at Imperial." 

"Good. That will give you security."

"Yes. And I also get to see all the research that's going on. Some of it is very interesting."

Arkady laughs out loud. He drops his voice to a whisper.

"You are _embedded_ there? Be careful, Luka."

"Don't worry about me. We need to find you somewhere to live. Have you even been looking?"

"Da. There is a place. I will show you it."

"Is it bigger than this?"

"Da. Big enough for two."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Imperial" is Imperial College, London. It is one of the colleges that make up the Univerity of London, along with UCL, Goldsmiths and others. Luce is based at Imperial's South Kensington campus.


	3. Cromwell Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luce and Arkady look at a flat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mini-chapter, an interlude with my OCs, and a little bit 'Homes and Gardens'. No apologies. We'll get back to Billy and Greg in the next chapter

"This is the building."

Arkady stops outside a beautiful, white-facaded and pillared entrance.

"You are joking, right?"

Arkady shakes his head.

"No. This is it. The flat is on the top floor." He notices Luce's look of horrified surprise. "What is wrong?"

"Cromwell Place? Are you sure? How can you even _think_ about buying something here?"

"Is it not a good area? It is quite near to your work…"

"Arkady, it's _Cromwell Place_ …"

Arkady smiles, a little bemused.

"I do not understand the problem, Luka."

"How can you afford it?"

"Ah. I have saved. Bonuses, fees. Payments for special activities. And I do not spend much. Mostly I live on expenses. And the previous owners have not maintained it well. It has not been modernised. "

"Oh. Right. Okay. Can we look inside?"

Arkady leads the way, unlocking the black street door and pushing inside. There are stone stairs, black-iron balustraded, leading to the upper floors, and an old, rickety-looking lift, concertina-doored, its shaft filling the stairwell.

They take the stairs to the fourth floor, and the front door of the flat. Inside, it is dark and very hot. Arkady goes first, negotiating the hallway with the aid of a small torch. Luce tries flipping a light switch, but there is no electricity. The floor is uncarpeted. It feels like wood underfoot. Arkady opens a door into a dimly-lit space. The light is filtering around the edge of shutters. He opens them carefully, hears Luce gasp as light pours in.

"Oh, my god. Arkady, this is fantastic."

The room is huge. The wallpaper is peeling, but the parquet floor looks original and in reasonable condition. There is a tiled fireplace, and Luce can see an iron-balustraded terrace outside the full-height windows. An old, dirty and very cobwebby chandelier hangs from the centre of the high ceiling. Luce's six foot six clears the chandelier easily.

"Hmph." Arkady growls. "It will need more work than I expected."

Luce prowls around the rest of the flat. Good-sized kitchen and bathroom, both tiled in white, brick-style tiles. Nineteen-thirties style fittings. Claw-footed bath. Square pedestal basin. High level toilet cistern. In the kitchen, a butler sink and a small range cooker are the only furnishings, but there are original light fittings, and a ceiling-mounted laundry dryer.

Arkady's grin gets bigger as he sees Luce's delight at the flat. He follows him into what must be the main bedroom.

"What do you think?"

"I love it, Arkady. It's perfect. High ceilings…"

"It will need a lot of time spent on it."

"Well, I work in academe. There won't be much going on until the middle of next month. I can take leave."

"Shall I buy it then?"

Luce frowns.

"I can't bear to think of anyone but me living here with you. Can we get a mortgage together?"

Arkady smiles.

"I do not want a mortgage, Luka. I want to own my home…"

"Oh. Right. I haven't got enough for half of whatever this is going to cost."

Arkady sees Luce's disappointment.

"Luka, ever since I left Siberia I have lived in other people's homes. I want somewhere of my own. I want to be the provider. Please…"

Luce gives a little smile.

"Well, let me pay some of the bills at least. And buy some furniture."

"Da. All right. And if you marry me you will have security…"

Luce almost misses it. Arkady holds his breath.

"What?"

"Marry me. I will be a good husband."

"What?"

Arkady smiles.

"Marry me, Luka."

"Why?"

"You want commitment…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cromwell Place is in a very posh part of London. Harrods, the Royal Albert Hall and Imperial College are near neighbours. Flats there go for millions of pounds. Arkady's had some big bonuses, I think.


	4. Hole in the head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy has a medical consultation. Dimmock makes an apology.

Lestrade paces up and down outside the consultant's door. He is becoming increasingly anxious; Billy has been inside for almost an hour. Hero is at school, but will need collecting soon. He can't leave Billy here alone.

He sighs and pulls out his phone, thumbing a speed dial number.

" _Dimmock_ "

"Hey T'éo."

" _Greg? What's up_?" 

"T'éo, I'm stuck at the clinic with Billy…"

" _What's happened?_ "

"It's a scan and a consultation with the neurosurgeon. But it's taking longer than it should do. I'm not going to be able to pick Hero up from school. Do you think you could do it for me, mate? I'll ring the school and let them know."

" _Of course I will. No problems. Do you want me to take her to my place until you can pick her up? Or shall I wait with her at yours?_ "

"It'll have to be yours, T. She's not old enough for a front door key yet."

" _All right. I'll make her something to eat. Give me a bell when you're on your way back."_

"Thanks T'éo. You're a lifesaver."

Lestrade calls his daughter's school to let them know that Detective Chief Inspector Theodore Dimmock of the Metropolitan Police will be collecting her. He puts away his phone just as the neurosurgeon pops his head out of his door and beckons him inside.

"Mr Lestrade. Greg. Please, take a seat."

The neurosurgeon indicates a chair next to where Billy is sitting. Lestrade reaches over and grasps Billy's hand. Billy clings on tightly.

"I've been explaining the results of the scan to Sir Bill. He suggests that I show you the computer images."

"All right…"

He is interrupted by Billy

"Greg. You'll be late for Hero…"

Lestrade pats Billy's hand reassuringly.

"It's all right. I've called Theo and asked him to pick her up."

Billy relaxes a little. Not much. The neurosurgeon smiles a professional smile.

"Greg. You know that Bill's visual problem is due to calcification from an injury compressing an area of the brain?"

"Yes. I remember there was some doubt though. You thought it might be from anoxia, when he stopped breathing."

The neurosurgeon clears his throat.

"Yes. Initially. But we were able to dismiss that as a probability. We are sure it is calcification, and the new scan indicates that very clearly. In fact, as you can see here…" he indicates a section of the image on his computer screen "…it shows that the calcification is beginning to break up, to fragment."

"Because of the recent bump on his head?"

"Possibly. The fragmentation means that the pressure points have altered. We need to make a surgical intervention."

Billy shudders, sending a tremor up Lestrade's arm and into his spine.

"They need to drill a hole in my head, Greg."

Lestrade squeezes Billy's hand, thrusts out his chin at the neurosurgeon.

"Explain, please."

The neurosurgeon smiles again.

"It will be a very small hole in the skull. We will pulverise the calcification with ultrasound, and suck out the debris through the hole."

Lestrade grimaces.

"Why didn't you do that before?"

"As with any invasive procedure, there are risks…"

"Will this give him his sight back?"

"We do not know. It is possible. But not certain."

"If it's dangerous, and if it might not work anyway, why have you decided to do it now?"

"The risk of not doing it now has become greater than the risk of doing it. The fragments may move, cause more damage, over a larger area. Sir Bill has been fully informed."

Billy pats at Lestrade's hand.

"I've given consent, Greg."

Lestrade sighs.

"When will you do it?"

"The team is being assembled for briefing as we speak. We will carry out the procedure tomorrow morning. Sir Bill will need to stay here overnight so he can be prepped and monitored."

"That quickly?"

"Yes."

The neurosurgeon presses a button on his desk phone and a nurse appears with a wheelchair.

"He doesn't need that…"

The nurse smiles politely at Lestrade.

"Sorry sir. While Sir Bill is our responsibility we need him to use the chair. For safety, sir."

Billy scowls.

"It's all right, Greg. I don't mind."

They make their way through the corridors, the nurse pushing Billy in the chair, Lestrade fussing along behind. Billy's private room is light and airy, but there is no way of disguising that it is a hospital room. The nurse leaves Lestrade to help Billy into paper pyjamas and get him settled into the bed.

"Greg, I want to see Hero…"

Lestrade nods, used to Billy's phrasing.

"I'll go and get her. Do you want anything else?"

"My laptop and headphones. And a charger."

"All right. I'll let the nurses get on with settling you in, and I'll be back before you know it."

"Greg, will you let Mycroft know? And Arkady. And Lucien. Please?"

"All right. What about Sherlock?"

"Mycroft will tell him. I expect Theo's already told Frankie…"

"Yeah. I didn't tell him to keep it quiet. Get some rest. I'll be back soon."

Lestrade drops a kiss on Billy's forehead and leaves.

 

*********

 

Luce is putting together a salad when he is disturbed by a pounding on his front door. He opens it to an agitated Theo Dimmock, and an even more agitated concierge. The concierge speaks first.

"Sir, he's got police ID…"

Luce smiles, tightly

"It's all right. I know DCI Dimmock. I'm sure I'm not in trouble."

He cocks an eyebrow in Dimmock's direction, breathing a little, completely unnecessary, sigh of relief when the innocent nature of the visit is confirmed. The concierge nods and retreats.

Luce waves Dimmock into the flat, offers coffee, switches on the espresso machine when Dimmock accepts the offer.

"I thought I saw Arkady leaving as I was parking…"

"Yes. We were going to have dinner, but he got called away."

Dimmock raises an eyebrow.

"You and Arkady?"

Luce shrugs

"I like him. He likes me."

Dimmock pulls a chair out from the little table and sits.

"I owe you an apology." He flushes. "I took Frankie's side against you without thinking things through."

Luce waits. He won't help Dimmock with this.

"Bill's in hospital. They're going to operate on him tomorrow. You were right. Callaghan's techniques wouldn't have worked."

Luce frowns

"They're operating tomorrow? What procedure?"

"Break up some calcification with ultrasound, Greg said."

Luce nods

"He must have done more damage when he fell." He smiles faintly. "Thanks for letting me know, Theo."

Dimmock smiles, relief obvious on his face.

"Thought you might have been more pissed off with me…"

"No. It's Frankie I'm irritated with. He's a clever bloke, Theo, and it sometimes makes him act like he's better than some of the rest of us. He assumed I wouldn't understand Liam Callaghan's papers." He laughs, harshly. "Theo, I've _written_ more complex papers than some of Callaghan's. I may not have a PHD, but I've got a solid body of research and development behind me. He should know that. Hell, he's used some of my stuff himself."

Luce scrubs his hands through his hair, catching his fingers in the loose ringlets.

"Arkady will want to know…"

"Greg called him. He knows."

"Should we go and visit?"

"No. Greg says the clinic want Bill calm and relaxed. No crowds of visitors. He's there with Hero this evening, and he'll go back tomorrow. He says he'll let us all know how it goes. Mycroft's there as well."

"No sign of Sherlock?"

"No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, I have seriously simplified the medical diagnosis and corrective procedures.
> 
> Dimmock has been promoted!


	5. Family ties

"You are not as unsentimental as you want to appear."

"Hmph."

"You need only to let him know you are here."

Sherlock finishes his cigarette and grinds it out under his foot.

"I really don't see why…"

"Yes you do. You are his _brother_ …"

"Family ties are overrated…"

Arkady does not bother to answer. Sherlock sighs and pulls his coat firmly around him. It is the same style he has worn for years, more or less. Mid calf, full-skirted, collar big enough to pull up dramatically around his face. Over the years the coats have been blue, charcoal grey, dark tweed. The current version is black, double breasted and kick-pleated.

He attempts to force Arkady into leading the way. Arkady is having none of it. He crowds Sherlock into the building, towards the wide staircase leading up to the private floor.

"Do you think to run while my back is turned? You are too old to be so childish."

"Ah, Sherlock. Good of you to grace us with your presence." Mycroft appears at the bottom of the staircase. He nods acknowledgement to Arkady. "Thank you, Major. I will take my brother up…"

Arkady nods briefly in return.

"May I see him? Just for a moment?"

"Gregor has a little job for you, I think. He is in Bill's room at the moment. Why don't you go up? Sherlock and I will be along shortly."

Arkady flashes a grateful smile and takes the stairs two at a time.

 

*********

 

Luce swears as his alarm wakes him. He has not had a good night; has slept fitfully, waiting for Arkady to come back. He turns over. The other side of the bed is empty, and the pillow is smooth and cold.

He gets up, showers and dresses. Breakfast is a natural yoghourt and half a grapefruit. He can't be bothered to make coffee. He decides to walk to work; he can drop into Starbucks on the way.

Outside, he blinks in the late August sunlight, fumbles in his pocket for sunglasses, notices the dark grey Audi parked a few yards down the street, where he will have to pass it. As he reaches the car, he sees a figure slumped over the steering wheel. His heart stops beating for a moment, then he sees the slight movement of the shoulders. _Breathing_. He walks around to the passenger door, opens it and slides into the car as Arkady wakes up.

"I keep finding you asleep in odd places."

"It was very late when I got back. I did not want to disturb you."

"I wouldn't have minded. What made you so late? Can you say?"

"Da. I had to go to Sussex. To persuade Sherlock to visit his brother."

"Sussex? Is that where he's living now?"

"Da. He did not want to see Billi. I find it hard to understand why."

"It's probably reminded him of John. He got really upset when Bill thought he was losing his marbles…"

"Marbles?"

"Cleverness. It frightened Bill. Me as well. Reminded me of a book I read at school. 'Flowers for Algernon', it was called. I downloaded it and read it again. Sad."

"But Billi's condition is not the same as John's. And Billi did not lose his intelligence, only his ability to visualise some things."

"It is a brain injury though. It would trigger feelings for Sherlock, I expect. How long did it take you to persuade him? If it made you that late?"

"It was close to midnight when we got to the hospital. I looked in on Billi for a few minutes only. I gave him your good wishes…"

"Thanks. But midnight's not that late…"

"Grisha was there, with Hero. He did not want to leave, but she could not stay all night. I took her to Fitzrovia, to Jack and her cousins. It took time to settle her. Jack insisted I stay and eat something. By the time I got back here, it was after three."

"You should have come up. I didn't sleep much anyway."

"Your babushka would have smirked at me again."

"My… grandmother?"

Arkady laughs

"Da. In Russia they are always grandmothers. Watching who comes and goes. Spying. Informing…"

Luce giggles.

"Oh, right. The concierge." He stops giggling. "I expect he is. Spying and informing, I mean. It never occurred to me. I am the most rubbish operative…"

"You have not had proper training, Luka. Only what Queenie and I could provide informally. You were never meant to be a… _spook_. Only a companion to Billi."

"But still. It's so _obvious_ …"

"Da. And now you are an embedded operative, and still untrained. This must be rectified."

Luce frowns.

"I suppose so. I don't know who to speak to about it."

"I do." Arkady changes the subject. "Are you going to work?" 

"Yes. Thought it would keep my mind off….You know…" 

Arkady nods

"Da. Is it important that you work? Or can you stay away today?"

"I can stay away. I'll need to go in at some point this week, but it doesn't have to be today. Why?"

"I want to visit my flat. Come with me?"

"You bought it, then."

"Da. I want to measure the bedroom. And then buy a very big bed."

"What you asked me last time I saw it…" Luce swallows nervously. "Um…"

"I would be a good husband, Luka."

"I wasn't sure. I thought you might have been joking. About commitment, I mean. You haven't mentioned it again…"

"You did not answer. I prefer silence to  risking outright rejection."

"I was shocked speechless, I think." Luce shakes his head. "I've been thinking. If something happens to you while you're away working, they won't inform me, will they? If I'm not family?"

"Nothing will happen to me."

"All right, superman. Suppose something happens to _me_ , then. _You_ wouldn't be informed. Would you care?"

Arkady smiles

"I would care, Luka. It is you who does not want to marry…"

"I do."

Arkady grins and starts the car.

"Good. Let us go and measure _our_ bedroom for _our_ big bed."


	6. Shh. It's a secret.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft has a job for sherlock and Arkady.

"Why's he got his eyes bandaged? The consultant told us there was nothing wrong with his eyes; that it was all in his brain…"

The nurse escorting Billy back from theatre flashes Lestrade a smile as she and the porter manoeuvre the trolley into the room.

"It's just a precaution. He's had nearly two years of pitch darkness. If the procedure has had an effect on his vision, it could be a shock for him to wake up to bright light. It could be painful. Once we get him into bed and settled, we'll dim the lights down and take the bandages off."

"How soon will he wake up?"

"Any time now. I'll get you some tea while you wait."

The nurse smiles again. Lestrade has a knack with nurses. The gender of the nurse doesn't seem to make a difference. The ' _Lestrade effect_ ', named years ago by a disgusted Sally Donovan, frustrated by her own inability to persuade a nurse to give out information, is working at full power today. The nurse bustles away, returning in a few minutes with tea in a china cup, with a saucer, and two custard creams. Lestrade thanks her with a toothy smile and settles down to wait in the half-dark.

 

*********

 

"Thank you. Please keep me informed." Mycroft puts his phone down on the desk and turns back to Arkady and Sherlock. "That was the clinic. It looks encouraging. Bill will need to have a further scan, of course…"

"Why?" Sherlock almost barks at Mycroft. The look that accompanies the bark is pure terror. His voice drops to a whisper. "Myc, why does he need _another_ scan?"

Mycroft pats Sherlock's shoulder.

"It's just a precaution, Sherlock. Just a check to make sure they got all the fragments, before they seal the hole in his skull."

Sherlock shudders.

"Will he be all right?"

"Yes. He is already able to discern differences in light levels. The neurosurgeon is pleased with his early progress."

"His _mind_ , Myc. Is his mind intact?"

"Go and visit him. You won't be convinced by anything I say."

Sherlock nods. Mycroft turns to Arkady.

"Will you let Lucien know?"

"Da. He will be pleased."

Sherlock scowls.

"You two seem to be together a lot lately."

Arkady grins.

"Da. He is moving into my flat."

Sherlock frowns slightly.

"Is that wise, Arkady? You are both operatives…"

Arkady shrugs.

"Wise or not, it is happening. And anyway, Luka is not a field agent. He has not had any training for the work…"

"Hmm. An oversight that needs to be addressed. I will arrange something." Mycroft picks up his phone and taps in a note to his aide. "You will need security. Cameras in the stairwell at least…"

"Not too much, or too intrusive please. No cameras in the bedroom…"

"Bed _room_?" Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "More than flatmates…"

"Da. More than flatmates. Can we please not discuss my personal life? You called us here for a reason, Mycroft?"

Mycroft picks up two files that have been lying on his desk. He hands one to each of them.

"These contain information on Colonel Arrez and his group. Currently inactive, but gathering intelligence and cashing in assets. He is up to something. I want to know what."

Arkady skims the file.

"Reconnaissance only?"

"Yes."

"I am to be paired with Vishka?"

Arkady looks worried. Sherlock smirks.

"Lucien wouldn't like that, would he?"

"Ahem" Mycroft gives Sherlock a warning glare. "You will go separately. There is a lot of ground to cover, and I want this done quickly. Arkady, will Lucien make difficulties?"

"Of course he will not. But it would help if you could keep him busy. Some firearms training, perhaps? Or whatever you can arrange."

"Yes. He has the potential to be a Q…"

Arkady grins.

"Da. He is clever. May I tell him I am to be deployed?"

"Yes. But no details, of course."

"Of course. Do you foresee this reconnaissance lasting longer than a month?"

"I hope not." Mycroft narrows his eyes, looks closely at Arkady. Arkady flushes. Mycroft turns to Sherlock. "Sherlock, would you like a car to take you to visit Bill?"

Sherlock raises an eyebrow.

"Trying to get rid of me, brother dear?"

Mycroft smiles, lips pressed together.

"Of course not, brother dear. But I do have something confidential I need to discuss with Major Yegorov."

Sherlock sniffs.

"I'll get a taxi." His voice softens. "I'm glad you're not lonely, Arkasha."

"Spazeba. Your little brother will be well, I am sure, Vishka."

Sherlock leaves in a swirl of coat.

"So dramatic. What do you need to discuss with me, Mycroft?"

"Something was brought to my attention this morning." Mycroft gestures Arkady to sit. "Notices of intention to marry in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea…"

"Ah." Arkady flushes again. "We hoped to keep it private."

"When do you intend to do this, Arkady?"

"October 15th. It is the soonest we can."

"Are you planning to have a lavish ceremony? A reception? Honeymoon?"

"No. Just the two of us. Neither of us have family."

"Who will be your witnesses?"

"I thought perhaps the operative that has been tailing me since I started spending time with Luka. And perhaps his concierge…"

Mycroft laughs out loud.

"Would you like me to arrange a special licence? You could marry in a week…"

"Da! Yes, please. I would like it as soon as possible. Luka too, I am sure."

Mycroft smiles.

"Are you sure you don't want a bigger ceremony? Bill and Sherlock will be upset if you don't invite them. Gregor and Theodore too, I expect…"

"We thought a quiet ceremony and perhaps a party later, when Billi has recovered. Or no party, if he does not recover…" Arkady smiles. "He will recover, of course. But I want this for Luka, I want it to be _his_ day, and mine. Sherlock, Billi, Frankie, they are flamboyant. They will take over, Mycroft."

Mycroft sighs, remembering his own wedding, which had been thoroughly hijacked, for the very best of reasons, by his brother.

"Very well. I will arrange the special licence, and I will keep the matter to myself until you wish to reveal your secret. "


	7. Smells like heliotrope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a chat with Billy and is reassured

"Hello Shezz."

Sherlock pulls a chair close to Billy's armchair. He had meant to see his brother days ago, has been putting it off. It has been a week since the operation, and he knows that if he had put it off any longer, Mycroft would have kidnapped him and brought him here forcibly.

"How are you today?"

"I'm all right. How are you? New coat?"

"Not that new."

"I haven't seen it before."

Billy laughs. Sherlock doesn't.

"What's wrong, Shezz?"

"Are you really all right, Billy? No further deterioration of your memory?"

"Dunno. Can't remember…" Billy starts to laugh, stops as he sees Sherlock's stricken face. "That's a joke, Shezz."

"It's not funny."

Billy smiles, reaches out to hug his brother, who, uncharacteristically, allows him to.

"It is a _bit_ funny. My memory's fine, Shezz. It always was. Well, apart from those few days I've lost." Billy grimaces. "I just needed to figure out a work-around for the visualisation."

"I don't understand…"

Billy leans back in his seat, frowns.

"I had an eidetic memory as a kid. I relied on visual memory almost exclusively."

"Not surprising." Sherlock smiles. "I did too. Mycroft as well, I expect…"

"Yeah. But you and Mycroft developed other ways of consciously accessing memory as well. Your mind palace, his mapping technique. I never did that." He smiles. "Not consciously, anyway. I probably did unconsciously, or else I'd have been in worse trouble than I was when I went blind."

"Go on."

"I really only got upset about the problem with my memory when Liam turned up and Frankie read his paper out to me. I couldn't understand the maths and it sent me into a panic. Lucien figured it out…"

" _Thompkiss_ did? How?"

"He asked me how I do…did mental maths. I visualise things, Shezz. I see a big chalkboard in my head, I chalk equations on, rub them out, shift them around. Stick post-it notes on. All in my head. Lucien's got a different way. He has what he calls haptic memory. He 'feels' equations and operations as strings of beads, arrays of switches. I realised I could do that. Beads for for counting. I could imagine the _feel_ of a catenary curve, and could feel how it would be different from a … a parabola, say."

"Intriguing. Does it only work for mathematics?"

"No. It works for everything. And I learnt how to use other senses as well. I couldn't see colours in my head at all, but Lucien helped me figure out "hooks". Light brown smells like tobacco. Dark red tastes like wine. Bright red is blood, metallic. Pink is the essence of Hero. Purple smells like Greg, and like heliotrope flowers, all mixed up. Vibrates like a bass string."  

"Heliotrope. His tattoo. Of course. Wait, sound, odour, taste and tactile sensation?"

"Yeah. It's strange, Shezz. I can see colours again now, but I still get the _sensation_ of some of them."

"Learned synesthesia. Fascinating. Don't tell your doctors. You'll never escape from them."

"I might write a paper on myself…"

Sherlock smiles. His little brother's mind is intact. He can let some of the guilt go.

"I'll look forward to reading it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a description of actual synesthesia.


	8. December 5th 2027

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hero and Greg are wakened by Billys nightmare. Luce is alone in Kensington. Sherlock waits for someone to show…

"Dada! Wake _up_!"

Lestrade gently bats away the hand that is shaking his shoulder and rolls over, meeting startling sea glass eyes that peer through a tousled white-blonde fringe.

"What is it, sweetheart? What's wrong?"

"Papa is having another bad dream."

Lestrade sighs and sits up. He can hear Billy moaning now, from along the corridor. Hero's room is closer to her papa's than Lestrade's. She doesn't sleep as deeply as Lestrade. This is the third time Billy has woken her this month.

"All right cherie. Let's go and get him settled."

Lestrade swings his feet out of the bed and into his winter fleece-lined slippers. He grabs his tartan wool dressing gown from the chair and shrugs it on. It is early December, two in the morning and the heating timer switched off the boiler at ten-thirty. The flat is on the chilly side of cool. Lestrade notices that Hero has new pink slipper-socks on. He takes her hand and they quietly go along the hallway to Billy's room.

 

*********

 

Luce lies in the dark, alone.

Arkady had left for a reconnaissance mission on October 6th, the day after the wedding. Ten days later, he had come back with sunburn he wouldn't talk about and tickets for the Eurostar.

Their honeymoon had been five days in Paris, interrupted on day three by a call from Mycroft Holmes. Arkady had left, under protest. Luce had stayed, under protest, and gone back to London alone two days later, using his return Eurostar ticket.

His arrival back in Kensington had coincided with the arrival of a team of workmen engaged to install modern heating and air conditioning systems and upgrade the electrical wiring. The workmen had been good-humoured, hard-working and efficient, and had kept Luce from feeling his loneliness too keenly, but by the end of November they had gone, leaving him to rattle around in the flat alone.

He spends as much time at work as possible; working in the lab or office, spending time in the university library, sitting in on evening lectures and attending colloquia. At home, he does odd jobs, cooks minimally and sleeps.

He realises that marriage to a double-O secret agent is likely to include long periods of separation, and starts to build a life that will help him cope. He goes back to his old Latin dance class in Peckham, and is welcomed with open arms, but that only takes up Monday evenings and the odd Saturday if there is an exhibition. He searches for, and finds, a capoeira class, attending on Wednesday evenings and Friday mornings, before work. On Friday evenings he attends the _roda_ , the social side of capoeira, learning how to drum and sing.

In all this time he does not hear from Arkady.

The night before his birthday, he lies in the dark, listening to the crystals above the bed tinkling in the draught from the window with the dodgy catch. He had persuaded Arkady to help him move the chandelier from the living room into the bedroom. He smiles at the memory of the ensuing struggle.

"Note to self"

His phone, on the bedside table, lights up at the voice-command. He records a memo, a reminder to have a look at the window in the morning. He wishes Arkady were home.

 

*********

 

Sherlock paces impatiently back and forth across the jetty. He jerks his head around at the sound of the ship's master clearing his throat.

"Yes, what is it?"

"We have to leave, sir. We'll lose the light…"

Sherlock sighs. He has waited two hours longer than he should have. The man he is waiting for is clearly not coming. He takes his phone out of his pocket and speed-dials.

" _Well?_ "

"He's missed the rendezvous."

" _Can you give him more time?_ "

"No. The captain is chafing at having to wait this long. It's getting dark…"

" _Very well. Don't risk yourself any further. We will have to rethink our plan."_

Sherlock puts the phone away and nods to the ship's master. The man raises his arms to signal his crew, then ushers Sherlock along the gangway to the launch that will take them out to the trawler waiting a little way offshore.

 

*********

 

Billy pads into the kitchen, shivering in the early-hours chill. He is wearing thick socks and unlaced boots, a jumper over his pyjamas, his coat over the jumper.

"Cold?"

"Freezing. She's asleep."

"Good. Hope she's not too tired tomorrow. She was going on about rehearsals for the Christmas concert…"

"She'll be okay. I'm sorry I woke you both up." Billy notices the mug in Lestrade's hand. "Is that chamomile tea?"

"Yeah. Thought it would help _you_ get back to sleep."

"Cuddle'd help more."

Lestrade frowns. He and Billy have shared a flat, but not a bed, since they brought Hero home from Scotland, two years ago.

" _Seriously_? You want me to cuddle you to sleep?"

Billy smiles wistfully.

"I've not had a cuddle from anyone for a long time. Not since before I went blind…"

The little hairs on Lestrade's neck stand up. He shivers.

"I don't know, Bill. Like you said, it's been a long time. What would Hero think?"

"I don't know. Perhaps we'd better not, then." Billy swallows and changes the subject. "I've got a present for Lucien. Will you drive me over there tomorrow? "

"All right. After we've dropped Hero off at school. Wait - won't he be at work?"

"No. It's the Christmas vac. Everyone's off till January."

"Oh, right. I'd forgotten he was an academic now."

"He's a technician…"

Lestrade snorts

" _Snob_. So, what's the present for? Bit early for Christmas."

"It's his birthday tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UK university holidays (vacs) are much longer than UK school holidays. Typically, a university teaching term will finish at around the second week in December and classes will start again in late January or early February. A school term will end two or three days before Christmas, and the next term will start two or three days after New Year.


	9. Heart and anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: reference to torture in this chapter
> 
> Luce, Billy and Greg get surprises. Not all pleasant. Mycroft gets one, too.

"Hmm…"

Luce tries again. The window _ought_ to shut properly now. He has dusted and lubricated the upper runners, sash cords and pulleys, dismantled the catch, cleaned the multiple layers of old paint from it, reassembled it and polished it up. There should be nothing stopping the window from closing. He pushes the lower part of the window up as far as he can and leans out, carefully.

"Ah."

A small box on the outside of the window frame, top right corner. It is not quite flush at the corner of the window, and the upper sash catches on it, only by a millimetre or so, but enough to stop it closing completely. Enough to cause a draught. Luce frowns.

"What's in the box?"

He pulls himself back inside, closes the window. He thinks for a moment, then lowers the top sash a foot or so, climbs onto the inner window sill and peers out again. His arm is long enough to reach the box comfortably. " _Advantage of being tall…_ " he smiles to himself, glad that Arkady can't see him leaning precariously out of an old fourth floor sash window. He fumbles in his pocket for the little Leatherman he always has on him and flips out a small screwdriver. The cover of the box is held on with two screws, one top, one bottom. Luce undoes the top screw and the cover pivots round, exposing the interior.

"Data logger and transmitter…"

Luce screws the cover back on to the box.

"What data?"

He picks up his laptop from the bedside table and takes it into the kitchen, dumps it on the table while he makes coffee.

 

*********

 

"Surprised you'd have hard copies."

Luce turns to look at Lestrade.

"What? Sorry, Greg. I'm not being a very good host." He smiles."It's just that I can't for the life of me figure out what data this thing is logging. Thought it might have been a relay for a weather station or a pollution tracker or something, but I can't find any stations around here. Hard copies of what?"

"These photographs. Thought you'd be the type to have one of those e-frames."

Luce laughs.

"I keep most of my photos in the cloud. But these few are so great I wanted them on show. Well, most of them. Arkady put up the one of me dancing. I didn't know he'd taken that."

He gets up from the table and walks across to the big chalkboard, where Lestrade is looking at photographs, stuck up with blu-tac.

"That one of you and Bill skating is good. I wouldn't mind a copy of that. And you've got the one of him with his red hair…"

"Yes. Arkady likes it. I don't mind…" he smiles and reaches out to smooth down a folded corner. "I like this old one of Arkady in his uniform. "

Billy comes to join them. He smiles at the photo.

"He looked like that when he turned up in Helsinki. I didn't stand a chance." He smiles at Luce. "I'm glad you're happy, Lucien."

Lestrade spots a Farrow and Ball paint shade card with a little note on it from Arkady. " _Is elephant's breath really a colour?_ ". He laughs.

"I'd have to ask that as well."

Billy's attention is caught by a sketch tacked to the corner of the board.

"What's this, Lucien? Looks like tattoo flash…"

Luce flushes.

"It is. This is an enlargement. I suppose you're going to know at some point…"

He holds out his left hand. Tattooed on the ring finger is a tiny anchor and an even tinier red heart. Billy squints sideways at him, nudges Lestrade.

"Lucien's got a tattoo, Greg."

Lestrade's reply is interrupted by a ring on the doorbell. Luce goes to answer it. Billy and Lestrade hear him talking to the delivery man, hear a chuckle or two. He comes back to the kitchen carrying a parcel, shoe-box sized and excessively sealed with brown parcel tape. There is no visible return address and the recipient's address is smudged and almost unreadable, but the name is clear: Mr L Yegorov.

Luce pulls his Leatherman out, selects a blade and begins to slice through the edges of the tape.

"Hang on a minute, Luce." Lestrade's CID-senses are tingling. "Are you expecting anything?"

Luce grins.

"Yes, new dance shoes."

Lestrade puts a hand on his arm, stopping him from cutting further.

"Can I just…" He picks the box up from the table. "It's a bit light for shoes, Luce."

Luce smiles

"Practice shoes. They are lightweight."

He takes the box back from Lestrade. Notices Billy looking at the address label.

"Go on then…"

Billy tries to raise one eyebrow. Fails. It is a Holmes-skill that eludes him. He mock-scowls instead.

"Mr L _Yegorov_?"

Lestrade's phone rings. Mycroft Holmes.

" _Gregor, stop him opening the parcel…_ "

"What? Mycroft?"

" _Stop him…. Ah. Too late._ "

Lestrade turns in time to see Billy not quite managing to catch Luce as he staggers back from the table, hits and slides down the wall, eyes blank, mouth working to control oversalivation.

"What is it?"

Mycroft's voice is very steady. Well-controlled.

" _A message. For me._ "

Lestrade looks into the box. Inside, on a bed of bubble-wrap and lunchbox ice-packs, is a finger. Above the second knuckle is tattooed a tiny anchor, and an even tinier red heart.

"Whose…?"

Luce's voice is very flat.

"It's Arkady's. We had the tattoos instead of rings."

Lestrade's voice is even flatter as he speaks into the phone.

"How did you know?"

Mycroft sighs.

" _I am receiving a live feed from a camera in Lucien's kitchen. I have also in the last few minutes received a video clip recorded yesterday._ "

"What the hell, Mycroft…"

" _Not my cameras, Gregor. And not a direct feed. It is being relayed from an unknown location. I am dispatching a team to sweep the flat, and the surroundings, but in the meantime, I am putting you in charge. I want you to bring Lucien and the parcel to Vauxhall Cross immediately_."

"I'm not leaving Bill here, Mycroft."

" _Bring him too._ "

 

*********

 

DCI Theodore Dimmock scowls, his teaspoon threatening to drill a hole through the bottom of his bone-china tea cup.

"I'm not sure, Mycroft. She's working on a case…"

"And she will continue to work on her case. And when her case is closed, she will be granted paid leave if it is necessary for us to extend her stay."

"She doesn't have clearance…"

"She won't need clearance. She is only providing cover, not acting as a guard, handler or other operative. She will be what she is; a police inspector on a case. Lucien will pose as her brother who is getting over a breakdown. There will be covert guards. They will not intrude. She and Lucien will not even know they are there."

"Will she be able to refuse?"

Mycroft cocks his head to one side and raises an eyebrow. Dimmock sighs.

"Stupid question. Will you brief her?"

"It would be better coming from you, I think. "

 

*********

 

Billy looks up as Hero walks quietly into the room, holding tightly to Lestrade's hand.

"Hello, lovey. Has Dada told you where we're going?"

"Yes, Papa. To France. Will we stay with Michelle and Claude for Christmas?"

"Yeah. It will be fun. We'll be able to do some riding."

Billy is trying to keep things light, trying hard not to show how stressed he is. Hero picks up moods very easily.

He had protested against Mycroft's determination to put him and his daughter under armed guard. Had watched himself and Greg on video, captured from the live feed from Luce's kitchen. Had slowly realised that he and Greg were now possible targets for whoever had planted the camera, whoever had cut off Arkady Yegorov's finger.

Billy had compromised by agreeing to go to Toulouse with Hero and Greg, with Michelle and Claude, his French staff, acting as additional bodyguards.

Lestrade smiles tiredly at Billy, dumps a bag at his feet.

"I have to go to be briefed. I've packed a few bits; clothes and night things for Hero, mainly. We'll get Mycroft to ship anything else we need over later."

Billy nods and settles down with Hero to wait.

 

*********

 

Mycroft waves Lestrade to an armchair and hands him a cut-glass tumbler of single malt. Luce is already there, shrunken into a corner of a sofa, his own glass gripped tight. Mycroft stands in front of the window, looking out into the pale December afternoon light.

"We have compared the finger to SIS fingerprint records. It appears that it is indeed Major Yegorov's finger." He notices Luce shudder. "I am sorry, Lucien, but there is no pleasant way of talking about this matter."

Luce clears his throat.

"You said there was a video clip…"

"Yes, there is. Lucien, you will find this very upsetting. It might be better…"

"I want to see. _Is he alive in the clip?_ "

Mycroft's face softens.

"Yes. The clip is time-stamped. It was filmed yesterday morning, our time."

He swipes his thumb across a remote control unit and a wall screen wakes up. Another swipe starts a video clip. Lestrade growls under his breath. Lucien starts to cry, silently.

A man, naked, chained wrists and ankles, face down on a large table. White-blond hair is matted with sweat and a little blood. There are red and purple stripes across his back, buttocks and thighs, some of them oozing. His feet are bloody and swollen.

"Soles of the feet. Bastards. And toenails. Oh, bloody hell…"

Lestrade swallows, sneaks a sideways glance at Luce, who sits rigid, stony-cold. A guard speaks to the naked man, Arkady. There is no reply. He raps the sole of the right foot with a cane, causing a whole-body flinch and drawing out a deep groan. The guard speaks again. A question.

"What's he saying? Is it Russian?"

"Yes. He is offering him a choice. A refinement, it seems. Torture by consent."

"That's all sorts of fucked, Mycroft. What choice?"

"Hacksaw or bolt-croppers."

On-screen, Arkady whispers.

"Rezak…"

The man grins. Mycroft stops the clip.

"He chose bolt-croppers. That would have made the amputation quick and clean."

Luce throws back the last of his whisky. His face is blank, voice expressionless.

"What happens now?"

Mycroft offers more whisky. Luce refuses.

"You obviously cannot stay in your flat. You are clearly a target. We need to get you to a safe location, so you will leave here with DCI Dimmock in… oh, half an hour or so. You will fly out to the Caribbean, to Nevis, where you will meet Inspector Sally Donovan. By good luck for us, she is currently involved in an investigation on the island. DCI Dimmock will brief her."

"What will I do there?"

"You have a very minimal cover story.  Nothing much to remember. You are Inspector Donovan's younger brother, Luke. You are recovering from a depressive illness, and you have imposed yourself on her sisterly hospitality. You might want to do some writing, perhaps. Or photography. You could fish, or scuba-dive. Or visit St Kitts. I understand you were born there…"

"I might have a grandma. I don't know if she's even alive still."

"Now is your chance to find out."

Luce shivers.

"You _are_ looking for him…?"

Mycroft nods

"We are. Try not to worry too much. He is strong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I agonised over whether to write a detailed account of Arkady's capture and subsequent treatment. I ended up drafting it but not using it. However, this is an important turning point in the Irregulars saga, so it needed to be mentioned. I've tried to be as non-graphic as I can without glossing over the events.


	10. La couronne de princesse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is coming up to Christmas. Billy, Greg and Hero are in Toulouse, where an old (young) friend has been living for the last few years.

Hero huffs and puffs as she hauls a tin box out from under her bed.

"This is the one. Help me carry it downstairs, Micky?"

She smiles her most charming smile, which is sadly wasted on Micky Jay, who at seventeen-going-on-forty is not enjoying at all being co-opted as second in command to an eight-year-old girl. He sighs.

"Give it here." He picks the box up, a little surprised at its weight. "What have you got in this?"

"Do not shake it about, Micky. You will break things."

Hero follows Micky anxiously, holding her breath as he negotiates the steep stairs from her bedroom down to the upper landing. The wider staircase down to the ground floor of the old farmhouse is more easily managed, and there are no ominous tinkling sounds as Micky sets the box down on the floor in the big sitting room. Hero opens the box and takes out a newspaper-wrapped object. Billy looks up from his laptop in time to see Hero unwrap an old snow globe. He smiles, as he realises it is one he had made, years before.

"What have you got there, lovey?"

"Things from your _boîtes_ , Papa."

"My boîtes? Greg?"

Lestrade smiles, taking the snow globe from Hero and shaking it.

"When you were…away, me and Arkasha got some boxes of your stuff out of your lock-up. We thought there might be things we could show Hero. Things that would help her remember you. She wanted to have a _boîte_ of her own. I remember this going in. Don't know what else is in there. Arkasha helped her go through some of the boxes…"

Hero rummages around and brings out a large patisserie box. Lestrade frowns.

"Cake?"

Hero laughs

"No, Dada. It is the glass balls for l'arbre de Noël…"

Lestrade chuckles.

"Ah. That's why you brought the box down." He gestures to Micky Jay, who is observing proceedings from the doorway. "Here, Micky. Give Hero a hand to put these on the tree, will you?"

Micky takes the box over to the large, bushy tree in the corner of the room. Hero follows, and starts to give Micky his orders on where to position each ball to best effect. Lestrade looks in the tin box, identifying smaller packages. He lifts out tin stars and old, speckled mercury glass ornaments. He smiles at Billy.

"I remember you used to have a taste for a scrawny tree. You'd only ever have these few bits on it."

"Yeah. Until Arkasha. He likes Christmas to be flamboyant. We used to celebrate it twice." Billy smiles, a little sadly. "I wonder where he is. Do you think he's…"

"Try not to think about it, Bill. It can't do any good. Mycroft will let us know as soon as there's anything to know. It's Thompkiss I'm worried about."

"Yegorov."

"What?"

"Yegorov. He took Arkady's name. When they got married."

"When they what?"

"When they got married. Did you really not know?"

Lestrade shakes his head, perplexed.

"When…?"

Billy laughs out loud.

"Your _face_ , Greg. They got married in October. Really quietly, just them and a couple of witnesses. They had those little tattoos instead of rings…"

He goes quiet, remembering what had happened to Arkady's tattoo. Lestrade frowns, prepared to be indignant about not being invited.

"October? You were still recovering from your surgery. Who were the witnesses?"

"A couple of people off the street, I think. They wanted to do it quickly, before Arkady went off on his next mission. Lucien said they were going to have a big party once he got back…"

"And he hasn't come back." Lestrade sniffs. "Poor sods."

Billy gets up and crosses the room, crouches down beside Lestrade and rubs his visibly-tensed shoulders.

"Lucien's tougher than he looks. He'll hold up all right."

He peers into Hero's tin box. Reaches in and pulls out a battered jewellery box.

"Is this…"

Hero bounces over and takes it from him.

"La couronne de princesse! C'est belle, Papa. Mais…" She opens the box. "It is too big for me to wear, Papa. Who did it belong to?"

Billy smiles at her and lifts the tiara out of the satin lining.

"It's mine, lovey. Your Dada bought it for me a long time ago." He dips his head so that Lestrade won't see the tears that have welled up in his eyes. He sniffs, hard. Misses Lestrade surreptitiously wiping the corners of _his_ eyes. "I've never worn it, though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the story of why Greg bought Billy a tiara, see [You Are My Only](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1850431/chapters/3980371)


	11. Vanilla-cream silk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luce gives the New Year party a miss

"Are you sure I can't persuade you?"

Luce shakes his head.

"I really don't feel up to it, Sally. You don't need me there, putting a damper on your evening."

"You're a great dancer, Luke. I doubt if I'll find a better partner."

Luce's lips quirk in a little smile.

"That's probably true. But you won't be short of dance partners. You look fantastic."

Sally Donovan does a little shimmy. Her dull-gold silk dress clings, sheath-like, as far as a dropped waistline, hip-bone level, then flares over a tulle underskirt to mid-calf. It is classy, and teamed with brighter gold strappy heeled sandals and jewellery, looks as good as anything else she has seen during her stay on the island, and a lot better than the last dress she had seen the Governor-General's wife wearing. She stretches up to kiss Luce's cheek, gently.

"All right. But don't brood."

 

*********

 

Luce wanders along the beach. It is late, and he wants to be above the high tide line before it gets completely dark. He can see the lights at the Governor-General's residence, inland from his and Sally's beach house. He can hear faint music on the slight breeze. There are other lights, other noises. The surf, shushing gently; music from the yachts moored offshore: shouts and laughter of revellers further down the beach, and the smell of barbecue. He hears the throb of a helicopter circling once or twice before it falls silent. " _Important guests for the big house_ " he thinks. He hopes Sally is having a good time.

He makes his way back to the house and shrugs on a loose white cotton shirt over his swimming trunks, picks up a couple of beers from the fridge and slips his Leatherman into his shirt pocket. He will need the bottle opener. He walks back down the beach a little way, settles himself on a clump of rocks, well above the tide line, to wait for the New Year sirens and fireworks.

He pops the crown cap off one of the beer bottles and takes a long swig as the crowd down the beach start a countdown. It feels strange not to be shivering in winter boots and overcoat.

"I have champagne…"

Luce jumps and drops his beer. The bottle shatters on the rock and showers him with foam and shards of glass.

"Shit. I've got nothing on my feet…" He slowly turns to the dinner-jacketed figure. "Is it _you_?"

Arkady smiles.

"It is." His smile fades a little. "At least, it is most of me."

"How'd you creep up so quietly?"

"I did not mean to. It is habit." Arkady grasps Luce's upper arm, steadying him as he climbs down from the rock. "Be careful of the glass."

They walk carefully back up the beach. The sand is soft away from the waterline, and both men are a little unsteady on their feet. Luce turns, walks backwards, drinking in the sight of his husband. His hair is the thick white blond Luce loves. No sign of any wound. No shaved patches. No stitches that Luce can see. His left arm is in a sling, but he does not have a cast on the arm, he wears his jacket sleeve normally. There is a bandage on his left hand. Luce knows what it hides. He stumbles a little in the soft sand.

"You were in that helicopter…"

"Da. I thought you would be at the party…"

Luce shakes his head.

"I couldn't. Couldn't go to a party, not knowing where you were. If you were…" he scowls. "Didn't know _you_ were at the party enjoying yourself."

Arkady smiles wearily. Sits down on the sand.

"I was not enjoying myself. I was worried when you were not at the house. Inspector Donovan told me to try the beach. I have champagne to celebrate New Year. …"

"I can't believe it's you." Luce sits next to Arkady, leans against his right arm. "Can't see any champagne…"

Arkady laughs and pulls two mini bottles of Pommery Pop from his pocket. He hands them to Luce, wraps his good right arm around him and hauls him in for a crushing hug.

"I stole them from the party. You will have to open them, I have only one hand just now, and it is busy. Be careful not to get the bubbles up your nose."

Luce opens the bottles, holds Arkady's so he can swig from it, laughs when Arkady splutters as it goes down the wrong way.

"Oh no! It's spilt all down your nice jacket."

"At least yours will not spoil anything if you spill. You are almost naked. Those thighs…"

"Shut up. How long are you here for?"

Arkady hears the note of worry in Luce's voice. He smiles.

"An hour, perhaps…"

"No. Please. That's not long enough…"

Arkady smiles.

"Mycroft has some business with the Governor-General. And another reason for coming to the island."

"What?"

"To ask you if you would like to join me in Geneva."

Luce shakes his head in confusion.

"Geneva? I don't understand. Why couldn't he just phone? Why are you here? And why Geneva?"

Arkady huffs out a laugh.

"All right. Geneva, because there is a good medical facility there."

"You still need medical attention?"

"Da. I should not really be here, but I did not want to hear Mycroft tell me you would not come…"

"Of course I'll come. Why would Mycroft tell you I wouldn't?"

Arkady smiles.

"Who knows, with Mycroft? I would not give him the opportunity."

Luce frowns.

"So we'll be leaving any minute now?"

"Da. You should pack, quickly."

Luce laughs, stands and helps Arkady up. They make a fairly unsteady way back to the beach house. Luce realises that Arkady's unsteadiness is from difficulty in walking. He doesn't mention it.

"I'm not sure I've got anything suitable for a winter in Switzerland." He gestures to his swimming trunks and shirt. "I dress like this pretty much all the time, here."

Arkady looks at him appreciatively.

"You have tanned."

"Yes. You can really tell you married a black man now…"

Arkady laughs out loud.

"Do you think I did not notice? Are you tanned everywhere?"

It is Luce's turn to laugh.

"No! I don't walk around the island in the nude. I keep my trunks on."

Arkady mock-leers

"So your bottom is still vanilla-cream silk?"

Luce mock-scowls

"Vanilla-cream silk? Can't you think of a more imaginative description?"

Arkady cocks his head to one side.

"I think vanilla-cream silk describes your skin very well. When you are not tanned. Just now, I think warm toffee…"

Luce chuckles. Arkady joins in; he leans in close, pressing their bodies together, stretching up a little to kiss, winding the fingers of his good hand in Luce's curls.

"Mmm. Such a soft mouth. Such firm thighs. Such hair. Silk springlets…"

"I think you've got a thing about my thighs."

"I think perhaps I have."

"Springlets?"

"Your curls. Silky coils, springs…"

Luce laughs again

"Oh. _Ring_ lets. They need cutting, if I'm going back to civilisation."

"Please do not cut them."

"Maybe a little trim. The ends are dry…"

"A tiny little trim."

They both jump at the sound of a throat being cleared.

"When you have finished admiring your husband, Major…"

Mycroft Holmes is standing in the doorway. Luce's flush shows through his tan.

"I'm just going to put a jumper on and pick up my laptop, Mycroft."

Mycroft raises an eyebrow.

"Might I suggest some trousers, as well? Geneva is rather cooler than the Caribbean."


	12. Double-shot cappuccino…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luce is being followed…

Luce collects his grandé latte with a shot of vanilla syrup and grabs an armchair at a low table. He sinks back into the seat, sips his coffee with a sigh of relief. It is cold outside. It had snowed earlier, and the sky looks as if it has more to dump on the streets. He smiles at a little hubbub that is going on at the counter.

"But I haven't ordered yet!"

The barista responds in strongly French-accented English.

"It has been paid for, monsieur. Double shot cappuccino. And a lemon and poppyseed muffin. To go."

The man in the grey woollen hat looks around. Luce tips his mug at him. The man smiles resignedly, picks up the takeaway cup and muffin. He walks across the crowded cafe, hooks a foot around the leg of a spare stool, drags it into an empty space at Luce's table.

"Thanks."

"I noticed you always have the same every time. Why are you following me?"

"I'm not following you."

"Okay. If you say so."

Luce cradles his coffee mug, keeping his hands warm. The man takes a small sip from his cardboard cup, shuffles on the stool uncomfortably. His phone rings and he answers it quickly.

"Yes. Okay. Right away."

He puts the phone away, smiles apologetically at Luce.

"Got to go. Thanks again."

Luce watches him leave. He thinks for a moment, then catches the eye of the barista.

"Puis-je avoir un sac de transport, s'il vous plaît? Mon ami a oublié de prendre son café…"

 

*********

 

"You have noticed him before?"

Luce nods.

"Mm. Often enough to know what he orders at Starbucks. He's been at the one where I was today, on Rue de Mont-Blanc, two or three times, and at the other one on Rue de Conseil-Général. He was at the skating rink in Bastions Park on Tuesday. He didn't get on the ice though. And I saw him at the Bibliothèque yesterday…"

"The library? What were you doing there?"

"I was bored, and it was somewhere to go to get out of the snow."

Arkady smiles faintly.

"You are often bored…"

"It's just…" Luce shrugs. "I don't like just waiting around. While you were…away, before it all went crazy, I kept myself busy. I started dancing again, I started the capoeira…"

Arkady smiles

"I should like to see you doing that. Perhaps one day, when we are back in London, you will allow it?"

"I'm not very good at it. Not yet, anyway." He grins. "We do it fully clothed, you know. Long loose trousers…"

Arkady makes a little pout.

"How disappointing."

Luce laughs

"And on Nevis, I went fishing, I swam a lot. I helped Sally with the data from her case. I didn't like leaving too much empty space in my head. Didn't want…thoughts creeping in."

He shudders. Arkady hugs him.

"I am sorry you are kept waiting around. I had not realised you would be alone so much. I was selfish in wanting you here."

Luce nuzzles his face in Arkady's hair.

"Not selfish. I'm glad you want me here. I just need something to keep me busy while you're off having treatments and physio."

Arkady kisses Luce's jawline and makes him shiver.

"We have a little mystery to solve, in any case. There is most likely video of this man, from CCTV. I will ask Mycroft to intercede with the Swiss police, to gain us access to the network."

"We don't need CCTV to identify him. I filmed him in Starbucks today, with my phone. We can send Mycroft the film. I suppose he could be one of _his_ people, keeping an eye on me…"

"It is unlikely that you would be able to _film_ one of Mycroft's people, if you were under covert observation. Or even catch a glimpse. The film will be useful." Arkady smiles. "DNA from the cup will also be useful, perhaps. It was clever of you to think of that."

Luce grins

"I used to be a copper, remember? I wouldn't miss something _that_ obvious."


	13. Secret weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Mycroft conspire…

"His name is Peter Franks."

Mycroft slides post-mortem photographs across the table for Luce to look at.

"That's him. That's definitely the bloke that was following me."

"Yes. We have confirmation from the DNA he so conveniently left on the coffee cup you appropriated. And CCTV from various locations indicates that he was in your vicinity on a number of occasions in the last week or so."

"Not one of your people, then?"

Mycroft looks appalled.

"Certainly not. Lucien, I was under the impression that you were safely ensconced here with Major Yegorov." He sniffs. "Not roaming around the city on your own."

Lucien shrugs.

"Arkady's in physio for hours at a stretch, or having debriefs, or counselling, or treatment or whatever else he has to do. I just thought I'd go out and see the sights…"

"And neither you nor he thought to inform me so that I could arrange for protective surveillance for you."

Lucien snorts.

"Mycroft, I don't for one moment imagine that I haven't had at least one of your people on my tail since I left Vauxhall Cross. My question is why this bloke wasn't hauled in by your mob. Oh, yes. And I have another one. Who killed him?"

Mycroft sighs.

"We decided to wait and see what he was up to. Unfortunately, you pre-empted any action we might have taken by taking your own."

"Well, I'm sorry about that. I thought it might have been a training exercise. You know, see how long it takes me to spot a pattern of activity, or something. I knew he was watching me the second day. After five days and nothing more than him turning up in coffee bars and stuff, I thought I'd better do something. In case I failed the exercise…"

Mycroft picks up the photographs and puts them away.

"Lucien. This man has been following you for a week. Yesterday you let him know you were aware of him by paying for his coffee. He, in turn, let anyone who was watching you _both_ know that his cover, such as it was, had been blown. He did this by quite deliberately joining you at your table. Almost immediately, he received a telephone call and left the coffee bar, leaving behind a cup which, if he was an operative, he surely must have known bore traces of his DNA and his fingerprints. Three hours later, a body was discovered slumped on a park bench. The body has been identified as this man, Peter Franks. Cause of death is a single puncture wound, made by a long, slim blade. The blade passed between the ribs and into the heart. He was dead before he felt anything."

Luce shudders.

"If I hadn't bought his coffee…"

"Indeed. But do not allow yourself to feel blame, Lucien. You did not kill him."

"Who was he working for? If he wasn't just a weirdo stalker."

"I have people working on it. We will soon know. In the meantime, you will return to London. Your flat is clean…"

"I'm not going without Arkady."

"Lucien…"

"No. Not without Arkady. I'll stay in our room, I won't go outside again until he's cleared to go home, but I'm not leaving him."

 

*********

 

"I love lying in the dark with you."

Luce snuggles closer to Arkady, wraps one arm and one leg around him, carefully. Arkady huffs out a chuckle.

"And I you. I will be pleased when I am properly healed, so you can squeeze tighter."

"How much longer, do you think?"

"I do not know. My hand is healing cleanly. The marks on my back are fading. There will not be much scarring, they tell me. The shoulder, perhaps another month before I can use it fully. The right foot is almost back to normal. The left…" Arkady breaks off, swallows two or three times before continuing. "The left, I do not know. I will have to have a special shoe made." He sniffs in disgust. "And use a stick for walking, like an old man."

Luce is glad of the darkness. Glad Arkady can't see the tears prickling his eyelids. Arkady's left foot had become infected, where the toenails had been ripped out by his captors. The medical team in Geneva had fought to save his foot, but had had to amputate the two smallest toes.

"You could get a sword stick."

"A secret weapon?"

"Yes. Like Mycroft's umbrella…"

Arkady laughs out loud. He nuzzles Luce until he finds his mouth. Kisses it hard. Luce sighs into the kiss. Arkady smiles.

"Mycroft says you have been insubordinate."

"He wants to send me back to London. I told him I won't go without you."

"It is dangerous here, it seems."

"It's dangerous everywhere. I'm not leaving you here on your own."

 

*********

 

"Peter Franks"

Mycroft slides the photographs across the table.

"Small-time private investigator. Seems to have got himself killed. Why are you interested, Mycroft?"

"I thought you might have crossed his trail at some time. He was in Geneva tailing Lucien Yegorov immediately prior to his unfortunate demise."

"Lucien _Yegorov_? Oh. Yes, of course."

"Indeed. Lucien's connection to Arkady could be relevant."

"Hmm. Is Lucien still in Geneva?"

"Yes. He refuses to return without Arkady."

"Sentiment. Could be useful, though. Is Lucien guarded?"

"Yes, of course. What do you have in mind, Sherlock?"

"Insist that he comes back to London. Pull rank. Sedate him and put him on a helicopter if you have to. Make him angry with you."

"Hmm. What do you expect to happen?"

"I will know when I see it happen."

"If we allow Lucien to come to harm…"

"We will face the wrath of Arkady Yegorov." Sherlock's lips quirk slightly. "I do not intend for you to leave Lucien unguarded, Myc. Just let it _appear_ that he is unguarded. And see who crawls out of the undergrowth."


	14. A scrape of the knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luce comes under attack. Mycroft offers reassurance. Arkady does not cook.

"Thompkiss!"

Luce turns at the shout, and a knife scrapes his ribs instead of puncturing something more vital. He feels, rather than sees, a blur of movement and is shoved heavily to the ground.

"Stay down, son!"

Lestrade runs across the road, firing as he moves. He reaches Luce and kneels over him. Luce hears another shot, and another. Then a voice.

"Hold fire! She is down."

"You all right, Thompkiss?"

"Not Thompkiss." He groans. "My side…"

Lestrade huffs.

"Forgot you'd changed your name…"

"Probably just as well." Luce winces. Talking hurts. "I haven't really got used to being Yegorov yet. Might not have reacted quickly enough…"

There is a scuffle and a rattle of handcuffs as Luce's assailant is hustled away. Luce tries to get up, but Lestrade won't let him. He turns him onto his uninjured side and shoves a rolled-up inside-out coat under his head to make him more comfortable. A wisp of white fur tickles Luce's nose.

"Ambulance is on its way."

Luce tries not to breathe too deeply.

"Didn't know you were into furs…"

Lestrade chuckles

"It's not mine." He calls softly to someone out of Luce's eyeline. "Take over here, will you?"

Luce gasps as the newcomer limps into his line of sight.

" _Arkady_?"

"Da."

Arkady squats awkwardly beside Luce and takes his hand.

"Who…"

"I will tell you what I can later. Be patient, Luka."

"She's connected to the bloke in Geneva, though…"

Arkady frowns

"Patience. You are hurt…"

"A bit. I might be bleeding on your coat…"

"It can be cleaned. Do not worry about a _coat_." He strokes Luce's hand gently. "I am sorry, Luka. I have not been the good husband I promised to be."

"I was bait."

"Not from my choice. But I did not stop it…"

Luce shrugs. Groans at the pain it causes.

"Be still, Luka. The ambulance will be here soon." Arkady sniffs, hard. "I am sorry I kept secrets."

Luce doesn't reply. Paramedics shove Arkady out of the way as they get to work, checking for additional injuries, stemming bleeding. They load Luce into the ambulance, and before Arkady can struggle to his feet and follow, the doors are closed and the ambulance is moving.

 

*********

 

"When did you decide to put me out there as bait?"

Luce sits carefully on the arm of the sofa in Mycroft's office, trying not to breathe too deeply. His stitches pull with every movement of his ribcage.

"It was after Peter Franks was killed in Geneva, of course." Mycroft frowns. "I am curious as to why you feel the need to ask this."

"I just…I know Arkady doesn't love me. I wondered if there was something longer term going on. If getting married was a strategy."

Mycroft frowns again.

"Arkady's last two missions had a common factor. The woman who killed Peter Franks and who tried to kill you is called Zuleika Arrez. She is the head of security, of a… person of interest, shall we say. Arkady's first mission, just after your wedding, brought him to Zuleika's notice. His second mission…"

"When he was captured…"

Mycroft allows the interruption. Luce is new to this.

"That mission brought him to the top of her wanted list. She bugged his…your flat. This brought _you_ to her attention."

"Why didn't _you_ bug our flat?"

"We had cameras outside the flat, in the entrance hall and on the staircase. Your husband did not want surveillance inside. And at the time, there was no reason to suspect it was needed. His missions should have been routine."

Luce takes some time to digest this.

"He was captured after the second mission was over…"

"Yes. At his rendezvous point."

"He told me someone recognised him…"

"That is true, but not the complete story…"

"Someone tipped her off."

"Yes. And now we know who that was. Lucien, Arkady has not been wilfully silent on these matters. He has been under orders." Mycroft smiles. "I can assure you that your marriage has nothing whatsoever to do with any past, current or projected activity that stems from this department. Or any other British organisation."

Luce scowls

"All right. What else am I allowed to know?"

"Zuleika's security team were neutralised when Arkady was extracted. She hired Peter Franks to follow you in Geneva. When Franks messed up his surveillance, she killed him. I made an error of judgement at that point."

"You did?"

Luce is amazed that Mycroft would admit to such a thing.

"I did. And by doing so put you in grave danger."

Luce shakes his head.

"I don't get it…"

Mycroft continues.

"I assumed that her interest was in Arkady." He pauses. "Ultimately, of course, it was. But her immediate interest was _you_."

"Why?"

"She had already hurt him physically. She no longer had the means to cause him further physical pain, but I had allowed her to follow you to London. She could get to you. Killing you would cause Arkady immense emotional pain…"

"He doesn't…"

"You are going to say again that he doesn't love you. You are mistaken, Lucien."

"She could have killed me at any time. Why wait till Arkady came back to London?"

"She wanted him to see you die."

"She couldn't be sure of that."

"She could. I had information fed to her. She did not suspect that we had identified her mole…"

"How much of this plan did Arkady know about? "

"He was informed of the plan only after you had left Geneva."

Luce nods.

"All right."

 

*********

 

The black car draws up against the kerb in Cromwell Place. Luce steps out and walks up the steps to the street door of number seven. Inside, he takes the lift. Eight flights up to the fourth floor is too many stairs for him today. He opens the front door and is greeted by the smell of something good. Arkady is in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the range.

"You cooking?"

Arkady grins.

"Shall I tell a lie, and say yes?"

Luce shrugs

"It wouldn't be the first time you lied to me."

Arkady's grin falters.

"For work, yes. Only for work, Luka."

Luce shrugs again, sits down at the kitchen table.

"Had a chat with Mycroft."

Arkady turns off the gas and gives the pot a final stir. He does not turn around.

"Was it a useful chat?"

"Mm. I suppose. He said you weren't happy about using me as bait."

"I was not. I think we could have done things differently."

Luce smiles faintly

"No point in what-ifs. Is it all over now?"

"It is. You are safe. I am home."

"Are _you_ safe?"

"Of course."

"You lied to me, before. " _Nothing will happen to me_ " you said" His voice breaks. "Nothing was supposed to happen to you, Arkady. You were supposed to be James Bond…"

Arkady turns. Reaches out for Luce, who grabs at him and clings on tight.

"I am sorry." Arkady rocks Luce against him. "I am sorry. I am so sorry…"

Luce stiffens, tries to pull back.

"It's my own fault, I expect. It was all a bit romantic. I forgot it was real, I suppose. That there are real enemies out there…"

Arkady doesn't let him go. Holds him tight against him.

"I did not expect to be captured, Luka. Or for you to be a target."

Luce presses his face into the crook of Arkady's neck. Whispers.

"Is it really all over?"

Arkady pets him, gently.

"Da. Yes. It is all over."

"And you still want me?"

"I do."

Luce sighs, and relaxes.

"All right. What's in the cooking pot?"

Arkady laughs.

"Cassoulet. And I did not make it. Grisha was here, earlier."

"It'll be edible, then."

"Da. It will."


	15. High class escort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arkady makes a decision.

"Are you trying to make yourself into a target?"

Arkady jumps and stubs out his cigarette in the damp soil of a pot of rosemary.

"I shield the glow with my hand."

"Yes, I know. Greg does that as well. Why are you out here?"

"I could not sleep. I did not want to disturb you."

"I wouldn't have minded. Was it me, earlier?" 

"Was what you?"

"What I said. Has that got you rattled?"

Arkady smiles.

"Not you, exactly. Not what you said. But our…circumstances, yes."

Luce shivers.

"It's cold out here. Come back to bed."

"I will not sleep…"

"We'll stay awake then. Come and talk to me."

Luce goes back to bed. Arkady retrieves his now-cold cigarette end and takes it into the kitchen for disposal, running it under the tap before putting it in the bin. He knows Luce gets irritated by cigarette ends in the herb pots. He shuts and bolts the terrace door and goes to the bedroom, taking a short diversion to brush his teeth on the way. He climbs into bed carefully, sighs when Luce wraps his long arms and legs around him.

"You're freezing."

"Da. And now you also are cold."

"We'll warm up. Now, talk."

"It frightens me, Luka. This commitment."

"It scares me as well. It's hard to invest everything, commit everything to one person. Sometimes I wonder if I've made a mistake…"

"How do you know you have not?"

"I don't. I suppose. But then I see my tattoo, and I remember what it means."

"A safe place. An anchor for your heart."

Luce blinks a bit.

"Yes."

They lie in silence for a while. Arkady presses tight against Luce, who responds by squeezing his thighs around Arkady's.

"You never push me away. Even when I can see you are very angry with me."

"For better, for worse. Remember?"

"I do." Arkady nuzzles into Luce's shoulder. "But…" his voice breaks and he sobs. "But I have lost my anchor…"

Luce sniffs back his own tears.

"Only the picture, Arkady. Only the symbol. The anchor is still holding strong."

 

*********

 

"Did you ask him?"

"Yeah. He said he'd need to run it past Luce. I said I'd give him a bell tomorrow."

"I think it could be really good for you, Greg. You'll be bored once Hero starts her new school…"

"I'm still not sure I like the idea of her going to boarding school. "

"Yeah. It's a big step. I didn't like it when I went. But she's desperate to go, and she really thinks of herself as French. The holidays are longer than in England. We'll see her a lot. And if she doesn't settle as a boarder, we can let her be a day girl. I'll move to France."

Lestrade sighs. He knows Billy is right. Hero needs to be settled, not carted around Europe, living with one person, then another.

"She's still really young…"

"She won't be the youngest there. They take them from seven. She needs to be around other kids, Greg. I don't want her to be lonely…"

"I know. It's just, well, boarding schools, uniforms. I never had any of that."

"No. You lived in a restaurant and learned to cook."

"Only in the holidays. South London comprehensive for me. I was lucky enough to scrape enough exam passes to go to the sixth form college."

"You were clever though. You just didn't get the breaks. You made your own chances…"

"Yeah. I suppose. Hero's got your brains."

Billy doesn't brush this off. He considers it carefully.

"Yeah. She has. She's musical, and she's got a brilliant ear for languages. I think she'll like maths, as well. Once they start doing some proper maths."

Lestrade laughs.

"She'll like sports. From what I've seen, she'll be a team player. Unlike her papa."

Billy smiles.

"She gets that from you. It's a good school, Greg. Mycroft's vetted it. He said he'd consider sending Lennox there, if it wasn't a girls' school."

"At least we know she'll be safe and settled there." Lestrade changes the subject. "Have you sorted Micky out?"

Billy grins.

"Yeah. He's really looking forward to having a place of his own. I've asked Blue Charlie to keep an eye on him, and Frankie'll pop in every now and then. They get on okay."

"Good. I'll see what Arkady says tomorrow."

Billy nods.

"I'll have a chat with Lucien. Be good to have a hacker on board…"

 

*********

 

Morning sunlight streams through the bedroom shutters. A ray hits a pendant chandelier crystal and splits into tiny rainbows that scatter around the room. Luce smiles as Arkady's white-blond hair is painted with tiny splashes of colour. He stretches, shivers and snuggles down in the warmth of the big bed.

"Good morning."

Arkady's voice rumbles in Luce's ear. He blinks as rainbow light gets in his eyes.

"Hello." Luce smiles at his husband. "Shall I make coffee? Seeing as how you made dinner last night…"

"I did not make dinner." Arkady chuckles. "I was allowed only to add a pinch of herbs, and stir."

"Why didn't Greg stay to eat it? And why was he cooking dinner anyway?"

Arkady smiles ruefully.

"He came to talk about something. I will tell you later, when I have thought a little more. I asked him to suggest something simple I could cook for you. Something like couscous, perhaps. He took over and made the very delicious cassoulet. It is a French dish, I think. I will not be able to reproduce it."

"I might be able to. But you've got to learn to cook. I'm not planning to be king of the kitchen."

Luce kisses Arkady and gets up, throws on a jumper over his pyjamas, pads to the kitchen. Arkady follows. Luce grinds beans and gets the coffee maker going. Arkady puts bread in the toaster.

"Making toast doesn't count as cooking. Mycroft phoned, didn't he? Told you I was on my way home in a strop. That's why Greg did a bunk."

"Da. He thought it best to be gone."

Luce pours coffee, grabs a slice of toast before Arkady can butter it, spreads it with dark, thick-cut marmalade.

"I've got to go to Imperial later. There's a departmental meeting. What have you got planned?"

Arkady shrugs.

"I will go to Vauxhall Cross. I also have a meeting."

Luce goes cold.

"They're not sending you off on another mission?"

"No. My days as a James Bond are over." Arkady smiles tightly. "I failed my fitness tests."

"Well, of course you did. You've not healed properly yet…"

"I can not fire a gun accurately. My hand…" Arkady swallows. "And my shoulder will not stand up to recoil from a rifle."

"You're left-handed…"

"Da. And I cannot run."

"You _can_ run. You ran across the street to knock that woman down. You saved me."

"It was a short burst. I do not know how I did it. Reflex, I think. I can not run , or even _walk_ the sort of distances I might need to cover. I cannot  climb, or jump, or kick effectively. I am finished as a field agent, Luka."

"As an assassin, maybe…"

Arkady whips his head round, eyes wide.

"Why do you call me _assassin_?"

"It's obvious. What else would you be?"

"Do not even think this, Luka."

"It's one of your secrets. I know you can't talk about it. I figured it out while I was talking to Mycroft. Your mission was to take out that woman's… husband? Brother? No. Her father." Luce sees Arkady's expression freeze. "It doesn't change how I feel about you. I knew you were a spook from the start. I know you're licensed to carry arms, to kill…"

Arkady pulls cigarettes and lighter from his pocket and goes out onto the terrace. Luce follows him.

"What will you do, then? If you're not in the field?"

Arkady shrugs, drags in a deep lungful of smoke.

"Train new operatives. Work with the Qs to test gadgets. Escort important old ladies to diplomatic functions…"

"You'll be in demand as an escort. Not just for old ladies, I expect."

"Why do you think this?"

Luce laughs, wraps his arms around Arkady, leans against his back.

"Because you are so _gorgeous_. You look fantastic in a dinner jacket. You're just…all that blond hair, the blue eyes, the flashing smile…"

Arkady laughs bitterly.

"How will you like to be married to a high class escort, Luka?"

"If he's a live one, I'll be happy. Better than a dead assassin. You're going to be so _bored_ …"

"Da. This is why I think I will accept Grisha's offer."

Luce nibbles Arkady's ear, makes him twitch.

"What offer?"

"To join him and be a private detective."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the beginning of The Irregulars. There will be more of Greg and Billy, and more of Arkady and Luce, in later stories.


End file.
